Who Else?
by sudipal
Summary: Set during 'The God Complex'. What does the Doctor see when he opens his door? Every chapter will contain a different possibility.
1. The Doctor

Disclaimer: I own neither _Doctor Who_ nor any of its characters.

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The Doctor ran down the halls of the labyrinthine hotel, until a sudden chill stilled him in his tracks. He turned and stared at the door that was like all the others doors surrounding him, only with one difference: this door belonged to him. It called to him silently, beckoning like a whispered siren-song. The plaque read "11" and he could see his distorted reflection in the brass. He grabbed the knob and twisted, peering inside to find out what awaited him. "Of course," he said, a sad smile forming on his face. "Who else?"

It was like looking in a mirror, watching his own eyes staring back with equal intensity. The one person from whom he could never run away, never hide, inhabited the space before him. The one man who knew all of his failings and judged him on the most honest of terms. It was no surprise that out of every regeneration, every persona he ever embodied, it would be his latest; not the man he used to be with all that ambition and sense of justice, but the man he had become: Icarus, deluding himself into invincibility before plummeting to his demise through his own vanity. He wanted to be a god. Equally, he wanted to walk among mankind. He failed at both, hovering somewhere in between in an unsatisfying state of rest. His own pride had led way to disappointment on its grandest scale for, before him, he only saw a life of eternal loneliness and regret.

But the despair did not overpower him; if it had that ability, he would have succumbed to it long ago. No, he knew this was not his time. Carefully, he closed the door again, placing a "Do not disturb" sign over the knob, and continued on his way.


	2. The Master

The plaque read "11" and he could see his distorted reflection in the brass. He grabbed the knob and twisted, peering inside to find out what awaited him. "Of course," he said, a sad smile forming on his face. "Who else?"

He stared at the man he might have been. His most hated friend. His best enemy. Could there ever have been any hope in redemption? Rule or serve... Why could he never see reason? There was so much more to life! Instead, his friend sank to the blackest depths, the sticky tar of hatred and craze pulling him forever downward. And there was no hand reaching out to offer him salvation; no one to absolve him of his sins. Would this be his own fate as well? As he was unable to save others, would no one be there for him?

Briefly, he wondered, what would the Master see if the situation was reversed? Would he see the condescending image of the Doctor towering over him, judging him, until he felt the dueling emotions of humiliation and guilt beating harshly through his hearts? No. Because the Master was gone, no one's fault and everyone's. Yet it was only the Doctor's loss.

But the burden did not overpower him; if it had that ability, he would have succumbed to it long ago. No, he knew this was not his time. Carefully, he closed the door again, placing a "Do not disturb" sign over the knob, and continued on his way.


	3. Adric

The plaque read "11" and he could see his distorted reflection in the brass. He grabbed the knob and twisted, peering inside to find out what awaited him. "Of course," he said, a sad smile forming on his face. "Who else?"

The universe, more or less, considers him a hero, the mystical man with the magic box who appears out of nowhere to save the day. But they don't realize how selfish he truly is. He wants to be adored, so he steals away people and convinces them to trust him, to have faith in him; and he keeps them until they finally become disillusioned, pleading to return to their former lives so that they can grow up and forget him. The hardest part has always been in acknowledging that they're right. He isn't magic. He can't always save the day.

And so the boy stares at him, accusingly. He died feeling unappreciated and unloved, far away from his home. It was wrong of the Doctor, he knew, to act like a petulant child when he was supposed to be the adult, the father figure toward the son he never had. He should have brought Adric home, shouldn't have left him alone. It was no one's fault but his own. He should have realized: every god demands a sacrifice.

This is the silent dread that whispers to him whenever he has the urge to invite someone new to follow him. The reminder of Adric. And every time another of his companions leaves in tragedy, it is Adric's sorrowful eyes that gaze upon him in judgment. The truth is that everybody dies, and the Doctor knows that best of all.

But the grief did not overpower him; if it had that ability, he would have succumbed to it long ago. No, he knew this was not his time. Carefully, he closed the door again, placing a "Do not disturb" sign over the knob, and continued on his way.


	4. Romana

The plaque read "11" and he could see his distorted reflection in the brass. He grabbed the knob and twisted, peering inside to find out what awaited him. "Of course," he said, a sad smile forming on his face. "Who else?"

The Doctor will readily admit that he misses Gallifrey: his original home, his culture, and his family. He doesn't miss, however, the Time Lords. Well, he misses them in general, as a concept: a mighty civilization with so much potential. The thing is, though, that they chose to squander said potential. The Doctor himself was considered a renegade in their eyes, which always caused a bit of animosity. That's why, when the planet was still around, he rarely ever visited, even going so far as to actively avoid the Time Lords as much as he was able. But now that they're gone, he realizes that most of them weren't so bad. Some of them he even thought of as friends.

He wonders why she's so silent as she glares at him now? She was always quite vocal in her opinion of him. "Disappointing," he could almost imagine her saying, slowly shaking her head. He sees her as he first saw her, proud and rigid and naïve. A part of him wishes he could see her in her next regeneration- the face she borrowed from Princess Astra- believing that maybe she would have understood his decision. But her younger self, the one that barely knew him, judges him now like the rest of them did.

And perhaps, just perhaps, he is truly as guilty as they've always accused him of being? Look at what he has become: the Oncoming Storm. Even his friends are unprotected from the tidal wave of destruction that always seems to follow him. Even Romana, who would have been superb.

But the doubt did not overpower him; if it had that ability, he would have succumbed to it long ago. No, he knew this was not his time. Carefully, he closed the door again, placing a "Do not disturb" sign over the knob, and continued on his way.


	5. Donna

The plaque read "11" and he could see his distorted reflection in the brass. He grabbed the knob and twisted, peering inside to find out what awaited him. "Of course," he said, a sad smile forming on his face. "Who else?"

Her eyes glared at him defiantly. She was one of the few people he had ever met who could put him in his place with just a look. Whenever he had risen above himself, she was always sure to remind him of the right thing to do and of who he was meant to be. She was his advisor and confidante; and together they were brilliant.

But she never realized her own potential, and, for that, he had failed her. She thought she was ordinary, even less than that. But, oh, how wrong she was! Didn't she ever understand? The Doctor never accepts anything less than magnificent, and she was no exception. All of time and space was laid before her very feet as tribute, and she received it all with such greed and pleasure. Yet, she doesn't remember any of it.

When Jamie and Zoe forgot, that was different. He wasn't to blame; it was just a consequence of something much larger than himself. It wasn't his decision. And, he was promised, they wouldn't forget him entirely. But Donna. It was his fault entirely; he should have protected her. The course of events were in his hands, literally. And the worst part: she'll never know how important she really was, is still.

Her image remains as a warning: these people whom he invites along his journeys are more than just playmates; he plucks them from their real lives and promises them so many things that he can't always fulfill. It is his fault, never theirs.

But the guilt did not overpower him; if it had that ability, he would have succumbed to it long ago. No, he knew this was not his time. Carefully, he closed the door again, placing a "Do not disturb" sign over the knob, and continued on his way.


End file.
